Shattered
by lyo24boi
Summary: The Argents are back in town and their goal: cleanse Beacon Hills. The one person that knows the most about them, they neutralize from the start. {Young Derek is back}
1. Seven Years of Bad Luck

**| Seven Years of Bad Luck |**

The only sounds heard throughout La Iglesia were the creaks from the wind and the stewing debris from the shift in the Earth. The town had been abandoned since the hunt for Kate Argent and nothing dared disturb the church, the locals finding the recent rumors even more frightening, ones that would be passed down into local legend for generations to come.

On the night of the new moon in November, someone disturbed the church once again. Garbed in a long velvet cloak, dawning the midnight blue hood attached to the neck, a figure walked through the abandoned site of worship and made their way down into the tunnels. They made their way deeper, pausing as they saw signs of gunfire, one bullet hole in the wall overrun with a brown sticky substance. They continued on, paying no mind or fear to any potential danger lurking within. The figure finally came upon the shattered carving that once bound a Hale. They picked up a large chunk, just larger than a softball, and made their way further into the tunnels.

The figure stopped, standing before the smoking mirror of Tezcatlipoca. They stepped forward, smearing some dust from the chunk onto the mirror with a gloved thumb. Swiftly the figure stepped back and chucked the piece of sculpture as hard as possible into the center of the mirror. The obsidian seemed unaffected at first, only for cracks began to tendril outward from the point of impact. As on reached the top of the mirror, it shattered.

The figure took their leave, finding their way back through the tunnel, up into the church, and back out into the abandoned square before the structure. There, half a dozen SUVs rested, gas still running, lights all pointed toward the church in an arc. Enough men and women stood around to comprise a small army. And on her knees, hands bound next to a scar-faced woman, was Araya Calavera, blood caked near her temple. Off to the side were Severo and two other hunters, bound and gagged on their knees.

The figure walked down the steps of the church and towards the captured matriarch, crouching down before her. They slowly removed their hood, revealing a woman only a few years older, her hair white and her smile just as devious and cold as Araya's could be. "I'll ask you again: where's my daughter? Where is Kate Argent?"

 _...in Beacon Hills, CA_

It was 1 AM and Stiles was in the kitchen. There was a pep in his movements, almost as if a song was running through his head. He was cooking. Breakfast. The stove was on. Two pans were hot. The eggs were simmering and the bacon was bubbling. A strip began to pop and a drop of grease flew off and landed on his stomach; he was clad only in boxer-trunks. He swore at the burns, rubbing at it before flipping the bacon and placing a lid over the violent pan. As the scrambled eggs finished, he separated them into two plates, carefully removing the four strips of bacon, putting three pieces on one plate and only one on the other. He turned the nozzles for the burners, grabbed the plates, and rounded the corner.

He looked at the bed he'd abandoned, the dark sheets a mess. He walked closer and in a rather giddy, almost sing-songy voice, said, "Time to get up, sourwolf." When Derek didn't stir, Stiles set the plates down on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe the bacon smell didn't wake you up," he said, leaning over to pull on Derek's shoulder. When Derek rolled onto his back, Stiles almost jumped at the sleepy, rousing face of a teenaged Derek Hale. Stiles clambered off the bed, accidentally knocking off one of the plates of food, the cheap porcelain snapping as it crashed to the floor.

Derek startled, first at the noise and then at seeing Stiles. He took in the sight of the human, noticing his lack of clothes. And then he looked over his own form, his own apparent nakedness quite evident. The smell of recent sex struck him hard and Derek glared up at Stiles, slowly saying, "What the fuck?"


	2. My Brother, My Cousin

**| My Brother, My Cousin |**

Stiles sat in a chair by the spiral staircase. His arms were crossed, his legs splayed. The sun was only barely in the sky. After checking his phone to confirm it was 8:20 in the morning, the sliding door to the loft rolled open. He looked up to see both Scott and Deaton, alarmed looks on their faces.

"He's outside," Stiles said, motioning with his head toward the window to his left. Scott and Deaton exchanged a look before the veterinarian made for the door. Scott walked up to his best friend, watching as Deaton stepped out, only to crouch down.

"You okay?" Scott said, looking down at his friend. Stiles shrugged. "What happened?" The boy shrugged again. "Stiles?"

"I don't know, okay," he exclaimed. "I don't know," he continued, his voice digressing.

Scott placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's gonna' be okay."

"I just…" Stiles tried. "I was just, I was hungry. _We_ were hungry. I went into the kitchen, made some breakfast. I came back and he was like...like that."

"No one else was here?" Stiles shook his head. "Did you hear anything?" Again, he shook his head.

"I mean, I was only gone for ten minutes," he exclaimed.

"It's alright, we'll figure this out." Stiles looked up at him and gave him a wary nod. "So, are you guys...together?"

Stiles looked down again. "Not really." Scott just looked at him, waiting. Stiles looked and saw his face, Scott picking up frustration-signals coming from his friend as he looked away again. "We, we were just having a little fun one night. Sleep deprivation. Another imminent threat to our lives. One thing led to another and we just let loose I guess."

"How does that even happen with _Derek_?"

"Not helping." Scott looked at him apologetically. "But last night," he continued, "last night was intentional. All this with Theo, what he put us through. With my dad. And with you. I just needed an out." Stiles glanced outside and saw Deaton with his stethoscope in his ears. It's then that Scott sensed it, underpinning the frustration. Jealousy.

Scott crouched down in front of him. "What is it?"

"Now he's just, he's not the same."

"The same?"

"Older."

"Oh. Your, um. Your type?"

Stiles nodded. "At least with him." Scott waited, peering over at the pair outside. "After Mexico—the second time, when he got stabbed—I actually thought it sucked. He was kinda' fun to have around."

"He still is," Scott pointed out, watching as Derek stood.

"Not like that."

"Do you...l—"

"Love him? No. I don't think so, anyway. Everything's still too raw with Malia."

"Too new with him?" Scott offered.

Stiles nodded. There's another moment and Stiles catches a brief look of confusion on his best friend's face. "What?" Scott shakes his head. "Are you, Scott are you...you know I hate it when you read my mood."

"Chemo-signals," Scott corrected with a grin. Stiles rolled his eyes. A briefer moment passed and Scott turned back to his friend. "Stiles, why're you jealous?" The human just looked away, crossing his arms. "What is it?" Nothing. "Stiles—"

"He asked for you. He asked for you after I saw him like that and I could tell he—he didn't want to be there. With me. He wanted you."

"Stiles, it could be anything. He still doesn't know a whole lot about us. About _things_." The balcony door opened and Derek walked in, Deaton right behind him. Derek went straight to Scott, pulling him in for a hug, the alpha making the same surprised face as he did with Theo.

/ | * | * | \

The six SUVs had only been in the United States for 20 minutes when the older woman in the backseat smiled over at the younger man next to her. "Are you anxious?"

"No, Madame," the man said, his Scottish accent easy on the ears.

"Good. I'm sorry about Kate. You're a good man, Lyall; you would've been happy together."

"I'd like to think so."

"You'll always have a place at my table."

"Much obliged, Madame Argent."

A phone rang in the front, the scarred woman in the passenger seat pulling out a satellite phone from the bag by her feet. "For you," she said, passing the phone back to the Argent.

"Yes?" … "Yes, proceed with the operation." … "No, I want visual confirmation." … "Good, inform me when Cora Hale is dead. I want photos."

/ | * | * | \

Inside Derek's apartment, Scott and Deaton sat with him, explaining the holes in his memory so far as they could recount. They went as chronologically as possible: the fire, Kate's deception, the move to New York with Laura (which is where the biggest hole was), Peter's coma, Laura's return to Beacon Hills, her subsequent murder, Peter's death, his new pack, the kanima and Matt, Peter's return, Gerard, two of his betas being captured, Cora's return, the Alpha Pack, the death of the two betas, the Darach (omitting the ensnarement), Cora's move back to South America, his and Peter's hunt for Talia's claws, the message she gave him, Stiles' possession, Malia being his niece and a member of Scott's pack, Kate abducting him (which is where he remembered his brief time with them), the deadpool and assassins, Peter and Kate's alliance and attempt to steal Scott's power, and finally his death-turned evolution. For a year, they hadn't heard from him, but Argent indicated he helped with tracking Kate after she fled.

"Malia and I can work with you," Scott offered, "see if you can still shift like your mother. Malia can transform into a full coyote, so she'll be good at helping you." Derek made no attempt to respond, only kept to cradling his head while he sat on his bed. "Derek, I, I can only imagine how much this is weighing on you. How much this is to take in. But we're all going to help you through this. Me, Dr. Deaton, Stiles," he said, looking over at his best friend leaning against the window. "Malia, your niece, you're gonna' like her. And we can, we can call Cora if you want."

Derek's head shot up. "No, don't call Cora."

"Okay, okay," Scott agreed, sitting next to the boy on the bed. "Um, will you be alright staying here? If not, we can work something else out."

"I'm fine here," he said, his head having returned to its sunken position.

"Scott, Stiles, can I speak to you alone?" Deaton said, motioning to the balcony door.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "We'll be right back," he said, gripping Derek's shoulder.

The three made their way outside and Deaton turned to face them. "Physically, apart from the age digression, it's as if nothing happed to him. When this occurred before, his heart rate was exceedingly high and his ability to heal was almost instantaneous. That's not the case this time. His heart rate's normal. His ability to heal is steady."

"Okay, so what does that mean?" Stiles said.

"It means we might not be dealing with the same thing."

"Oh god," Stiles groaned.

"Last time, he was wrapped in wolfsbane and entombed. That process alone may be enough to account for his physiological shifts at first, but after hours in a car, through the night, something more must have happened."

"Kate," Scott said.

"Indeed. The abilities of the nagual are still largely unknown. It's possible that what you found in the temple was merely the tip of the ritual."

"She turned Scott into a berserker so I'm gonna' place a high likelihood on that one," Stiles said.

"Something else you should consider," Deaton continued. "Derek eventually reverted, and within a small amount of time given what happened."

"Yeah, but he was fighting the berserkers," Scott tried. "When they hit him, it's like it triggered something in him."

"Yes, but why then? Derek was too young to have fully grasped control. He used anger and that didn't come until later."

"He did say he was still having problems," Scott admitted.

"And he almost took my head off after your dad told him about the Hale fire," Stiles added. "Though, I suppose he's always reacted like that towards me.

"Kate needed him for a purpose," Deaton said. "When he fulfilled that purpose, what's to say she didn't release whatever hold she placed on him?"

"So, you're saying we shouldn't beat the crap out of him to try and trigger his reversion?" Both Deaton and Scott just looked at him. "What? It crossed my mind."

"It'd be nice if we could ask Kate," Scott said. "Argent wouldn't answer me if they actually caught her or not."

"She's not at Eichen House," Deaton confirmed.

"So now what?" Stiles said.

"It would be best if I inspected the source of the predicament," Deaton stated.

"You're going to Mexico?" Derek said, the door having just opened.

"For a couple nights," Deaton answered. Derek walked over to them.

"You shouldn't go alone," Scott said.

"I won't be," the veterinarian assured.

"Before you leave," Derek started, "I want to see my uncle. I want to see Peter."


	3. Familiar Faces

**| Familiar Faces |**

"Alan," Dr. Fenris said, standing in the center of the lobby at Eichen House.

"Conrad," Deaton replied, walking through the door, Scott and Derek following.

"A new beta, Scott?" Fenris asked.

"Something like that," Scott replied, looking over at Derek's youthfully surreal-complexion.

"Thank you for seeing us," Deaton continued, sticking out his hand.

Fenris took it, nodding. "Shall we?" He turned, limping towards the door to the left of the entrance. Scott eyed a woman he'd never seen before behind the desk, her hair dyed black and a number of piercings on her face. The four walked down to the closed unit slowly, the chief medical officer's limp holding their pace.

"Is that from Valack?" Scott asked as Fenris opened the door to the unit's floor.

"It is," he replied.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not enough that it requires a werewolf's attention," Fenris said, smiling appreciatively at the alpha. "Peter's being held behind the same glass that contains most of the inhuman residents. For you two, though, you won't be able to walk directly up to."

"Mountain ash?" Derek asked.

"Quite. Now, I urge you all you all to be brief and mindful. Peter has been known to elicit a considerable amount of chaos from his neighbors if provoked enough."

"We'll do our best," Scott assured him. "You'll wait here?" he said, turning to Derek. The former alpha nodded and Fenris swiped his card before pulling the sliding door open.

"A year and a half, Scott? Really?" Peter started, lying flat on his bed, looking up as Scott and Deaton entered.

"Peter, I hope they're treating you well," Deaton began.

"It's Bastille Day, did you know that?" Peter continued, not once taking his eyes off his childe as he stood and walked over to them. "Did you come to storm the prison? Maybe set me free? I'd love to stretch my legs. Smell the fresh air. Feel some...wind."

"Not a chance," Scott said, staring the deranged Hale down. "And it's not Bastille Day; it's March."

"Scott," Deaton cautioned.

"It's okay, Doc, I expected as much. Can't blame a cat for asking. What do you want?"

"You've expressed a more intimate knowledge of berserkers," Deaton said. "What else can you tell us?"

"Not much more than you already know. In a shamanistic ritual, men don themselves with bones of animals, bears mostly, and give themselves to one all-consuming instinct: power. They fall so far that some would argue they even become the animal themselves."

"And their tie to the nagual?" Deaton pushed.

"Werejaguars have a deeper sensitivity to telluric currents and the air of supernatural that's threaded throughout the globe. They can not only control them, but they can make them. As with what happened to Scott."

"That's a roundabout way of describing it," Scott mumbled, forcing a glance from Peter.

"Kate took Scott to the temple of the smoking mirror to perform this ritual. Is there a connection?"

"Ah, so that's what this is about," Peter mused. "This isn't about berserkers. It's about Kate, isn't it? You're...she's not back...you're trying to find her."

"What can you tell us about Kate?" Scott asked.

"Nothing new, and certainly not where she is given my current...situation."

"What about your plans together?" Deaton tried.

"Your _schemes_ ," Scott added, eliciting another look from his mentor.

Peter only smirked, walking over to the back corner and grabbing a wooden chair, bringing it forth so he could sit. "I'll tell you, but you have to give me something in return."

"What?"

"A scream."

"I'm not falling for that, Peter. Besides, Lydia isn't even here and Meredith—"

"Is hopped up on drugs. Yes, I know. But as much as that escape plan intrigues me, and believe me, the rumors of a few teenagers setting loose a psycho with three eyes have even reached my forgotten hole. Did you know he was my roommate when I first arrived?" The pair on the outside of the glass simply looked at him. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. Nonetheless, I'm talking about _your_ scream, Scott."

"Mine?" Peter nodded, sitting down and crossing his arms expectantly. Scott considered it, Deaton's expression more than cautionary. Scott finally let his eyes glow red and his fangs protrude when Peter interrupted. "No, no, Scott. Not your roar. Not your alpha voice. Your scream." Scott's eyebrow lifted, his head tilting as confusion dropped onto him. "That night in the school. You hadn't even made it to your second full moon. You were trying to lure me out…"

It suddenly dawned on Scott. He glared at the man behind the glass, taking a step forward. "What? I'm bored. Sue me." Scott hesitated, glancing back at the still open door. "C'mon, Scott, do it for me. It's such a small ask for my help, don't you think?" Scott and Deaton exchanged a look before the latter finally nodded. And so Scott screamed, or more yelped. That same attempt at a howl that Stiles had described as sounding like a 'cat being choked to death.' Peter let a out a bellowing laugh, even having to stabilize himself by leaning forward with a hand on the glass. He shook his head in delight before looking up at them. "Oh, thank you for that, Scott. I needed that." He pushed off and sat back down on his bed.

"Peter...Kate," Scott pushed.

"On second thought, I've changed my mind," Peter said. "You should be dead. Your pack should've killed you. You don't deserve to be an alpha. I'll never help you," he said, enunciating with a flash of his cold blue eyes.

"What about me?" Derek said, coming into view. "Will you help me?"

/ | * | * | \

"So you slept with my cousin?" Malia said, looking over at the boy lying next to her. Stiles didn't respond, rather continued flipping through his tablet-copy of the bestiary. They were both on their stomachs, their phones in front of the werecoyote. "Do you have feelings for him?" Stiles shrugged. "Do you still have feelings for me?" Stiles turned and looked at her, his expression meant to say 'obviously.' "See, I knew you weren't gay. Hayden said that you probably were, but I knew it."

"I could be!" Stiles exclaimed, his expression now of bafflement.

"Stiles, c'mon. How many times have we had sex?" Stiles nodded, even smiled a little. "I know our break has—"

"Breakup," he corrected.

"Breakup...has been hard but...Derek?"

Stiles shrugged again. "I'm at least 20 percent gay."

Malia smacked him in the arm, forcing them both to laugh when their eyes met. "So you know, I'm not being your hag...or beard...or—"

"Do you even know—never mind. Did Hayden tell you about beards and hags?"

Malia shook her head. "Lydia."

Stiles sighed, his face falling into his hands and his head shaking. When he finally looked up, and back at his tablet for a moment, he turned off the screen and looked at the girl next to him. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"So why aren't we together?"

"The trial's in a few weeks. We can talk about it after that." Stiles looked away, agreeing silently, at least giving in if nothing else. "Will you still be there with me?"

"Of course. We all will. She's going away and you won't have to worry about her anymore."

Malia smiled. "So what're you gonna' do now? Now that he's...our age?"

Stiles stretched before twisting to lie flat on his back, Malia peering down at his closed eyes. "Things are different now, for both of us," Stiles answered. "I guess we'll just see what happens." Malia copied his movements, their upper arms now touching as they looked up at Stiles' bedroom ceiling. For a moment, however fleeting, it felt like they were together again.

/ | * | * | \

Scott parked his bike in the driveway that evening. The visit to Eichen House had been fruitful; Peter had been forthcoming upon seeing Derek. He checked his phone, saw a text from Derek that he was back at the loft safely and Deaton was on his way to the country south of them. The alpha tucked his helmet under his arm and walked inside, only to see Liam sitting at the kitchen table and his father leaning against the counter with a bag of take out behind him. "Right on time," Rafe said with a smile.

"Hey, dad," Scott said, giving the man a hug. "How was your day?"

"Slow, thankfully. Yours?"

"Oh, y'know." Rafe eyed his son expectantly. "What're you doing here?" Scott said, turning to his beta. Liam made a face, gesturing with his eyes that they should go elsewhere to talk. "It's okay. He knows."

"Disturbingly so," Rafe remarked.

"What's up?"

"There's, uh," Liam stammered, Rafe's gaze at him unnerving. "There's no sign of any berserkers...as far as we can tell. Kate either. There's nothing."

"Kate? Kate Argent?" Rafe clarified, Liam nodding. "Scott, care to fill me in?"

"It's nothing," his son answered, the _yet_ seemed to linger.

"I'd like to help. And I can't help if I'm not in the know."

Scott nodded, placing his helmet on the counter and taking a seat next to Liam. "This morning," he began as Rafe took a seat across from him, "Stiles found Derek reverted back into a teenager."

"Derek Hale?"

Scott nodded again. "The last time this happened, Kate had kidnapped him and brought him to Mexico. But it happened there, this age reversion thing. And Stiles, he, uh, well there was no time this morning for Kate to have done this without him knowing." Rafe raised his eyebrow.

"They're sleeping together," Liam blurted, much to the eye of both McCalls. "Well, it's true."

"Okay, so you've been having your friends—pack—check around?" Rafe asked, earning a nod from Scott. "And nothing came up?" Liam shook his head. "Wait, Scott, you told me before that she escaped from some hunters. How do you know she's alive or even still out there?"

"I don't," Scott admitted. "When I asked Argent about it after he got back he just said that it had been handled. He wasn't lying, at least as far as I could tell."

"But that's not a straightforward answer, either," Rafe added. Scott smiled in agreement. "Let's say you and I take a ride over there after dinner. See if he can shed some real light on his sister's whereabouts."

Scott looked at Liam for a moment, hesitating. "I don't even know if he's in Beacon Hills."

"Oh I do," Rafe replied. "I've been keeping tabs."


	4. What Their Mother Made Them

**Author's Note** : I know I forgot to mention this, but I envisioned Helena Argent being played by the amazing Ellen Burstyn.

* * *

 **| What Their Mother Made Them |**

"You should have called first," Chris said, looking out his kitchen window and down at the three SUVs in front of his apartment building.

"I did," Helena replied, seated at the small round kitchen table with a cup of tea, Gerard across from her. There were several armed men in suits around the apartment: at the entrance to the kitchen, at the front door, outside in the lobby, by the bedroom where the windows could lead out onto the balcony, and elsewhere.

"Having Martine call three minutes before you arrived doesn't count, mother. Nor does it excuse the 'extended radio silence.'"

"Christopher, I've come all this way. Do you really want to talk about telephone calls?"

"It's been years," he retorted, turning to look at her. When she didn't answer, he took his seat between them. "Why're you here? It's certainly not to pay your respects to my wife or your granddaughter."

Gerard gave Chris a look of surprise, ready to caution him, but Helena spoke. "I've come to complete your father's work."

/ | * | * | \

"You talked to Peter?" Rafe said, driving his FBI-assigned vehicle down the beginnings of downtown Beacon Hills. "The man who tried to kill you?"

"I know it was stupid," Scott said, looking out the passenger's window. "I'm sorry."

"Scott, it wasn't stupid. It was brave." Scott looked at his father, Rafe glancing over briefly; the silent exchange seemed to speak a lot. "I mean, yes, I can't say as I've had an easy time with all this. Every day I worry about you. About the unknown danger that's waiting for you."

"Dad—"

"I mean, not that I didn't before. Just now...it's so much more intensified. But, I also know you're special. You're an alpha—a true alpha—for a reason. You're a leader and even though you and your friends do some questionable things, they look up to you. And they should. I'm proud of you."

"Okay, okay," Scott said, turning back to look out the window. He could feel it in his face and in his chest, the emotions he'd buried about his father. He could also sense the positivity coming from the man next to him, the warmth and encouragement; Scott didn't even need to see that his father was smiling. "Thanks, dad," he finally said. "You know I'm glad you came back, right? I mean, even before you said all that."

"I did, but it's great to hear you say it."

They came upon Argent's building and as Rafe began to get into the turn lane, Scott said, "Keep driving."

"Scott?" he said, pulling back into the straight-bound lane.

"Just keep going." They drove for another half of a mile before turning into a small shopping center.

"What happened? Was it Kate? You pick up on her scent?"

"Not a scent," Scott said, looking at his father. "A smell. Gunpowder. And a lot of it."

/ | * | * | \

"This is for you own good," Helena said as two of the men in the apartment held Chris, a third punching him in the gut. He fell to his knees and one of the two holding him tightened a pair of cuffs around his wrists; the other man stretched out a length of duct tape and placed it over his mouth. "I understand why you helped the alpha. You were following orders and after Allison's death," she said, Chris struggling at her mention, "he was all you had left. You followed the new code she laid out and I can accept that. But that's over now. _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent_ and we are being hunted. Our family. Our world. No more, Christopher, and this time you'll sit this one out and let us do what needs to be done." Chris struggled as they got him to his feet. "And there'll be no interference from you," she warned just before they took him out of the apartment."

Helena turned to Gerard. "As for you, I'll forget these nasty rumors, about your supposed attempts to cure your cancer."

She held out her hand. Gerard took and kissed it. "My dearest Helena, thank you."

The matriarch smiled as their fingers interlocked. "So, tell me, where is my daughter?"

/ | * | * | \

"I have to admit, I was surprised to get your text," Jordan Parrish said, walking up to Scott crouching behind a at the edge of the line.

"I'm just glad you were nearby," Scott replied.

"Needed milk," the hellhound retorted with a smile. He was dressed in civilian clothes, his shift not starting until morning. "Are you sure you don't want me to call it in?"

"Not yet. I saw some people walk in. Armed. No gunshots." He looked back at the deputy. " _And_ , Lydia's not nearby."

"No, but I am." They exchanged a look and prepared to move when they saw Argent being led down some front steps by two men. The wolf and hellhound exchanged another look before Scott rushed forward. When he was finally spotted, Jordan shot out the three lights in the overhanging in the parking lot.

Chris fell to the ground as Scott began to brawl with his captors. In one motion he disarmed one, and then the other, avoiding a gunshot to his face in the process. A third man came from inside the lobby, taking aim at the source of the red glowing eyes. Parrish was there, ready. A fiery blow to the back of the man's shoulder sent him face down into the pavement, rendering him unconscious. Scott fell to his hands, kicking his feet in a roundabout circle, striking both in the face and launching one into a nearby car.

The two supernatural men lifted Chris up by his arms and took off towards the treeline where they had emerged from. They very quickly heard searching-voices, flashlights attached to heavier arms turning on. The three men hopped into Rafe's waiting SUV and he took off, his lights off and heading away from downtown. In the back with Argent, Jordan ripped the tape off his mouth. "What happened?" the deputy asked.

Argent looked up at the mirror, catching Scott's eyes. "You're all in danger."


	5. Clean House

**Author's Note** : Another visualizer, I envisioned Lyall Payne being played by Colin O'Donoghue.

* * *

 **| Clean House |**

Scott watched the shadows of the tree branches dance across his moonlit ceiling. He was lying in bed clad in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his hand resting on his stomach. He couldn't sleep. His alarm clock dimly read 3:00 AM. He thought back, recalling memories from only a few hours ago…

 _They were in the sheriff's station. His dad, Argent, Parrish, and himself. Stiles and his father were with them, Argent recounting the arrival of his mother, her search for Kate, her plans for the Hales and Scott's pack and any and all remaining supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills. He told them that his mother left many years ago to fight a war against the supernatural in the Middle East—before the Hale fire—and hadn't heard from her since. She'd always been ruthless, but this lust for bloodshed on a grand scale was new for him per what he could remember about her. He informed them that she had also been well prepped before arriving, knowledgeable of a great deal of the town's recent history._

 _And now, with Gerard by her side, she'd have an even greater insight and an almost equally dangerous ally by her side. Argent even admitted that he wouldn't be surprised if she had a copy of the deadpool. The sheriff mentioned bringing her in for questioning, even just to give them all time. Argent explained their family's influence, that with Helena's return to Beacon Hills it'd only increased. Unlike many of the hunter families around the world, the Argents were one of the oldest, most dedicated, persistent, and successful. Their reputation was unparalleled even despite the few setbacks in recent years._

 _So they devised a plan. Everyone would keep in twos. Satomi's pack and Eichen House would be put on high alert. Rafe would place a few calls to trusted agents about chatter and they even considered starting a formal investigation; further, Rafe's field partner was already en route from San Francisco. Braeden was to arrive within the next 12 hours. Isaac was to be checked on. An APB was placed on their vehicles—traffic cams had caught their license plates. Scott had even secretly sent a text to Deucalion._

 _At the end of their discussion, Rafe had asked Argent where Kate actually was. He explained that he was keeping her in a safehouse with various security measures involved designed to keep her in. There was video surveillance as well as a trusted man, one with whom he needed to call. Stiles asked what his parents planned to do with her. Rather than being direct, he responded with a question, inquiring if they knew how his wife died. As only Scott and Stiles did, he explained: the Code, Gerard, Derek's bite in an attempt to save Scott. The knife. Argent admitted Kate had done some horrible things, as both human and nagual, and although he tried several times he just couldn't kill his own sister. It was the sheriff who asked if his parents would. Argent, truthfully, didn't know…_

The anxiety coursed through him. He tried to mentally scroll down his list, hoping that would provide him some semblance of assurance. Some calm. Argent was staying with Parrish. Satomi, Braeden, and Deucalion had each made contact. He'd had a Skype call with Isaac in France, something that had been increasingly regular since the final semester of high school started. Hayden and Malia had joined Lydia for a girls' night. Corey and Mason were staying over at the Hewitt's. Derek was staying with the Stilinskis. And Liam was in the guest bedroom just down the hall, Rafe opting to take the couch.

Scott listened closely, audibly mapping his household. Liam was tossing and turning while his mom slept soundly. His father, on the other hand, was very much awake, struggling just as much. He was at the kitchen table, the light on, a cup of coffee and papers somewhere in front of him. He could hear the buzzing of the light, the slide of fingers against sheets of paper, the light placement of a mug against the wood and a sip when it was brought to his lips. He found the three heartbeats to be the most soothing, allowing his own to slow.

It was short lived, the tapping on his window scaring the hell out of him.

/ | * | * | \

Deep in the Beacon Hills Reserve, Lyall Payne slowly treaded through the debris of needles, leaves, and other deposits from the trees. He was gloved, hooded and cloaked. After hours of walking he came upon a clearing. The ground between the trees was more dirt and dusty than anything else. The waning moon above lit up the entire area, the shallow wind revealing the bits of crab grass sprinkled throughout the grove. In the middle, though, was something found only in few places around the world. He paused at the treeline, looking over the enormous oak stump.

On the far side of the clearing, his peripheral caught sight of a stag slowly coming out between the trees. To his right, a wolf trotted out onto the dirt, its head low, no ill-intent seeming to resonate from it. From the sky above a crow descended, landing delicately on the man's shoulder. He took a step forward, and then another. Each of the animals stood still, the black bird maintaining its balance with ease as he walked. He removed his gloves when he came within feet of the nemeton, revealing tattoos of dara knots on his knuckles, each of them linked.

Lyall crouched down before it, hovering his hand over the enormous growth rings. When he finally touched it, his eyes rolled back. His neck strained so they could face the sky. He spasmed. Twitched. His muscles tightened. On his hand where he touched the bark his veins flowed black, his skin absorbing what looked like pain into his body. The wind picked up speed. The deer and the wolf crossed passes, going opposite directions into the woods. The crow jumped off his shoulder and landed high in a nearby tree.

Lyall's eyes rolled back into position. He took a prolonged deep breath before standing. From inside his cloak he retrieved a silver dagger. The wind suddenly stopped and he turned and thrusted the blade, driving it into the oni that had suddenly appeared behind him. The creature, intending to decapitate him, exploded. He looked around, but nothing came. He turned back to the nemeton and held out his wrist, slicing across it, letting blood drip onto the oak. The wind picked up again.

/ | * | * | \

"I couldn't sleep," Derek said as Scott got up to open the window. As he unlatched the lock and pulled up, the alarm went off downstairs and in the upper hallway. The young Hale quickly slipped in and Scott slammed the window shut. Then there were footsteps; his dad was coming. He ran over to the door and popped his head out, seeing Rafe with his gun pointing down at the ready and Liam behind him.

"I'm so sorry" Scott began. "I couldn't sleep and just wanted some fresh air. I forgot about the alarm. I'm really sorry." Down the hall he could see his mom's face, sleepy and irritable. She closed the door behind her after giving him a final look. Liam looked his alpha over, not sensing anything askew or reading a lie. He made for his room silently.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rafe asked, his voice hushed.

His son nodded. "Promise."

"Alright. Well good night, buddy. Try and get some sleep." Scott nodded again and once he followed the sounds of his father's footsteps to the bottom of the stairs, he slipped back in. He held up his finger to Derek and listened, checking in on the sounds of the others. His mom was asleep and Liam's heart rate was slowing; in mere minutes, he was out cold.

"I guess you couldn't sleep either," Derek said after Scott turned to him, smirking.

"What're you doing here?" Scott said, his voice muffled yet forceful.

"I told you," he whispered. "I couldn't sleep."

"Right. But what're you doing _here_?"

"I didn't feel safe with the humans. And the pale one snores. A lot." Scott frowned. "Besides," Derek continued with a grin, "you're my alpha for now. Protect me." His shoulders arched back and his unbuttoned plaid shirt fell off to the floor. His hands moved to the button of his jeans, unlatching the first, all the while maintaining direct contact with Scott's eyes.

"Derek…?" Scott said slowly.

"I feel safer here," he replied, pushing his jeans down, tugging at the legs until he was left in only his grey wife-beater and green boxers. Scott could only look at him, mouth agape. Derek's grin widened, his eyebrows doing a brief dance. He turned around and slipped under the sheets, on Scott's side of the bed where the alpha had been only minutes before. Scott blinked out of his trance and Derek smiled up at him, flashing his teeth. The tanner-skinned boy, still at a loss, walked around to the other side of the bed and slipped under the shallow covers.

They were both on their backs, watching the shadow dance of the tree. When a brief moment passed, Scott finally said, "How are you? I mean, with everything we told you. I know we didn't last time and I'm sorry."

Derek's head turned slowly, Scott's following, their eyes meeting. "It's okay," Derek said, turning and looking back up; Scott didn't follow. "Actually, it's weird. I spent all day in the loft by myself. I mean, Deaton called to check in, but I was alone. With just my thoughts. I...I tried to be sad. To cry even. My mom. Dad. Laura. I _should_ be sad. And angry. But something...something feels like I've already grieved. I've already cried. And because I can't remember, I just can't seem to get angry. It's weird. I mean, I am sad I guess. I miss them. But in some way, actually all the way, it feels like it all happened a long time ago. And I guess it did, right?"

Scott was silent. Derek turned to look at him again. Their gaze didn't hold long, Scott looking back up. "Yeah," was all he said.

Derek smiled lightly, following the motion again. He grinned harder to himself. He closed his eyes, rolling mostly onto his stomach towards Scott. In the same motion he draped his arm over Scott's bare torso, onto the alpha's abdomen. "Goodnight, Scott," he said through his smirk.

Scott's body stiffened, his cheeks blushing. He immediately recalled Stiles' words. _He wanted you._

/ | * | * | \

Three SUVs pulled up next to a small abandoned building. "Madame," Martine said, twisting back from the passenger's seat to gently touch Helena Argent's knee. The matriarch stirred, looking up at the clock that read 4:00 AM. "We are here."

"Gerard," Helena said, squeezing his forearm. Gerard stirred and followed his wife as she got out. The teams from the other cars were already in position, one man already working on the advanced lock securing the door. When it finally released, he opened it and walked in. Standing in the center of the room was none other than Kate Argent, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. When Gerard entered, though, tears of happiness pushed to the fore. And then she saw Helena. She fell to the sofa against the wall and began to cry. The patriarch stepped off to the side as his wife ventured further inside. She sat next to her daughter, watching.

"Mama?" Kate said through her sobs.

"Katherine," Helena acknowledged with a smile before embracing her.

"I...I can't believe you're here. Both of you." Gerard smiled down at her, nevertheless still behind the mountain ash line. "Why?"

"I've come to take care of the Hales," Helena said. "For good."

"And Scott, do you know about Scott?"

"The true alpha, too."

Kate smiled, part of it relief, part of it that evil surge within her. "I can help. I want to help."

"I know. That's why we're here. To get you out. I love you, Katherine."

"I love you, too, mama." Helena cupped her daughter's cheek and smiled again. She took her daughter's hand and they stood, hugging once they were on their feet. They turned to leave when Helena reached into her long coat and retrieved a Desert Eagle. Kate stopped. Helena handed it to Gerard and eyed him. Watching. Kate went to plead, opening her mouth, but Gerard was too fast; if he'd had any hesitation it didn't show. The bullet shoved through her forehead and exploded.

Kate crumbled to the ground.

Gerard turned to see his wife looking approvingly at him. He handed her the pistol, in return stuffing it back in her coat. Helena turned to Martine and said, "Ring the Calaveras. Inform Araya that I just did her job."


	6. The Line in the Sand

**| The Line in the Sand |**

The Argents pulled up to the front gate at Eichen House, five cars now back in their company. Martine opened the door for their leaders and six armed hunters accompanied the trio to the lobby. At the front desk was the same woman as before: young, dyed, and inattentive. "We'd like to see Peter Hale," Martine said.

"Visiting hours aren't until one," the clerk replied, not taking her eyes off the scheduler before her.

"Sandra, my dear," Helena started, "that wasn't a request."

The orderly looked up, scanning the room, the situation becoming clear; there was little attempt on part of the hunters to mask their weapons. She finally looked back at Helena and, with no emotion, said, "Visiting hours aren't until one."

"Young lady," Gerard began, taking a step forward, "Eichen House is a private institution with private funding. The largest contributor to this fine establishment—"

"Is Argent Arms International," Dr. Fenris said with a mannered smile, walking out from the door leading to the stairwell, a tall African American orderly behind him. "While we appreciate every donation, I'm afraid there's no one by the name of Peter Hale staying with us. And if there were, there are matters of kinship and," nodding to Sandra, "timing."

Gerard smiled, accepting the set back and knowing the play. Scott. "One o'clock, then," Gerard said. "And double check your system—he's here _somewhere_." The hunters took their leave and found, by their SUVs, five BHSD cruisers and nine anxious deputies all out of their cars. Even the sheriff himself was there, sunglasses on, waiting for them. The nine hunters rejoined their associates that waited behind, Helena motioning for her own nervous people to stand down.

"Morning," Noah said in his casual and cordial, yet knowing manner. "I don't think we ever had the pleasure when you were in town a couple years ago. Gerard, right? Gerard Argent?" he said, sticking out his hand to shake. The patriarch didn't take it. "You must be Mrs. Argent," he continued, turning to the light-colored haired woman.

"Helena," she said, taking his hand a shaking gently. "How do you do?"

"How do you do?" The sheriff nodded cordially, smiling at her. "What brings you to Beacon Hills if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm visiting some family," she replied. "I haven't seen my son in quite a while and so much has happened."

The sheriff put on an acknowledging and remorseful face. "I had the pleasure of knowing your granddaughter. She was friends with my son and she was a great kid. You have my condolences."

Helena also put on a faux expression. "Thank you, sheriff."

"I can't help but wonder, what brings you to Eichen House?" he said, feigning ignorance quite well.

"Business as it were," she said with a smile. "Our family likes to support the community as often and in as many ways as it can. We're large beneficiaries of Eichen House."

"From a law enforcement perspective, I can tell you we more than appreciate it. Too often people need help, not jail."

"Indeed."

"Madame," Martine interrupted,

"Our apologies, Sheriff; we have another appointment this morning that can't be put off. Will there be anything else?"

"Not a thing. Don't let me keep you," he replied with a smile. "You all drive safe and have a great rest of your day."

"Likewise," Helena said, a threatening undertone to it. The hunters clambered back in their SUVs and the sheriff and deputies all stood in place they took off, U-turning and passing by speedily.

/ | * | * | \

The alarm on the nightstand was reluctantly set for 8:00 AM and it went off diligently. As Scott roused from it, it suddenly turned off. Before he could see how—or who—he felt it. A hard, clothed erection pressed tight against his butt and an arm draped over his side, a hand wrapped around on his stomach. A thigh was on top of his, a foot pressed against his own. A clothed chest was tight against his bare back.

He was being spooned.

"Morning," Derek said and Scott could hear the grin.

"Derek, what're—"

"I know this, seeing me this way, has to be weird for you. I don't have any memories, or, yeah, but I know how familiar you are. More than anyone else. I trust you," he said, his pinky finger on Scott's happy trail twitching. "Do you trust me?"

"Derek," Scott half breathed, his semi starting to pulse.

"Scott," Derek whispered against his ear, finger pressing under the alpha's waistband.

"Scott," Melissa's voice said as it approached the bedroom door. The boys jolted upright, seated as the door opened. She startled, looking at them with a frown. Her eyebrows were raised and her arms crossed. "Scott," she said again, a slight smirk on her lips and subtle amusement in her voice.

"Uh, this...this is, uh—" he stammered.

"Derek," the other boy said, smiling at the woman.

"Derek... _Hale_?" He nodded. She couldn't help but look him over, her brain not adjusting to the sight of a teenager that had once been a grown man. "Right. Well, come downstairs. Dressed. I've got breakfast ready." He nodded again, still smiling. Melissa walked away and Liam was revealed to have been leaning against the wall in the hallway. He was grinning at Scott, an air of devilishness to it before he followed Melissa.

Scott blushed, his threshold of embarrassment peaking and pouring over. His heart began to race, his stare just lost out into the hall. Until he felt a hand on his hairy thigh. Scott blinked and turned to look at Derek, when the latter leaned over and pressed a close-lips kiss to Scott's mouth. Scott's shock only lingered for a second before he pressed back and eventually opened his lips for Derek's prodding tongue at his crease. The kiss, while firm, was tender in its motions. Derek explored his mouth slowly, feeling the buds on Scott's tongue. Grazing under the roof of his mouth. Driving back deeper, further back towards his throat. His hand on Scott's thigh moved higher and the alpha covered it with his own.

The Hale boy pulled back dreamily, his closed eyes and agape mouth fluttering in lust-quenching delight. Scott couldn't take his eyes off him, flustered, his own lips wet. Derek finally opened his eyes and smiled at the alpha. He reached over and patted Scott's pec, saying with a toothy grin, "Come on, I'm hungry."


	7. Blink of an Eye, Part 1

**| Blink of an Eye, Part 1 |**

It was mid-day and she was running. There were trees all around, no designed path in front of her. The river was on her right, through the trees only 20 yards away. She was running at top speed. Running from them. From the hunters. Men clad in camouflage, armored and heavily equipped; they weren't like the team that went after Scott and Satomi's packs in the warehouse. These were soldiers. Commandos. Tracking one target of high interest. They weren't close enough to fire. Not yet. And despite her speed, they knew every turn she took and predicted everyone she'd make.

The brunette eventually came upon a clearing. A river village, one that seemed to be deserted. She kept running, looking back only once. It was Cora Hale. She weaved through them, ducking from the middle. A burst of bullets nearly missed her as she rounded the corner, clipping the wood and straw and dirt on the side of one of the houses. The six men divided into two, corralling her out into the open. Another explosion of gunfire missed once again, one shot nicking a strand of hair.

Cora got to the far side of the village, ready to dash into the treeline. One of the hunters lined up a clear shot when a roar echoed from the sky. From inside the houses and atop them, naguals swarmed down upon them. The fight was short, but brutal. Gunfire shot off in all directions. Knives were drawn when clips emptied. They were no match for an entire village of werejaguars, though. All six of the hunters fell, none of the nagual joining them, a mere shoulder wound on one. Cora Hale walked back into the village just as the last of them reverted. He was an older man. She looked at him, grateful. In return, he smiled warmly at her, pulling her in for a hug as if she were his own daughter.

/ | * | * | \

Melissa had made breakfast. They were eating, sitting around the table. Melissa, Scott, Derek, and Liam. The smell of eggs, bacon, and toast permeating the downstairs, emanating from their plates and the hot pans on the stove. It was quiet. Awkward. The room felt thick and heavy. No one was talking and no one made eye contact. Scott was still shirtless, clad in only his boxers and athletic shorts. While in addition to their own similar shorts, Liam and Derek were donning wife-beaters, black and light-grey respectively. Sitting closest to the kitchen was the de facto pack-mom, with Liam to her left, Scott to his, and finally Derek. The Hale boy had a minor, barely hidden smirk on his lips once again; beneath the table he was playing footsy with Scott, rubbing his foot up and down Scott's hairy calf. In turn, the alpha was stiff, his heart racing.

 _Bzz, bzz._

Scott picked up his phone from the table.

/ Code: Trisk...screw it I can't spell it. We're both okay here. /

The alpha looked up to see all eyes on him. "Um, that was Corey. He and Mason are fine."

"And that's everyone?" Melissa asked.

Scott nodded. He looked down at his plate and continued eating quietly until Liam put down his toast. "So, are you guys together?" the beta asked outright. "Mason wants to know." Scott didn't look up. He froze stiffer, hunching over more. He blushed. He knew they were all looking at him again and he could picture each of their faces. Liam with a devilish grin. Derek sporting a smirk of expecting amusement. His mother with both eyebrows raised, mouth full of food and lips slightly curved upwards. When Scott finally did look up at them, he was three-for-three.

At the back door, a set of keys began to jingle. The deadbolt turned and Rafael walking into the house, three men following him inside. While one was in a button down much like Scott's dad, the other two were donning golf shirts, looking as if they were on holiday. "I thought you said you only had one kid, McCall," said the one that followed directly behind Melissa's ex.

"I do," he said with a smile. "This is my son Scott," motioning to the alpha, "and his friends Liam and...and Miguel." The boys exchanged a look and Scott actually smiled as his father continued. "And this is Melissa," he said more to the unspoken two.

"Melissa, you look lovely as ever," the more forward man said.

"Brad," she acknowledged. "Long time."

He nodded. "Been alright?"

"Hangin' in there."

Scott looked at her questioningly. "Scott, boys," Rafe offered, "this is my old partner and mentor. He took me on right after I graduated from the academy. And this," he said, clasping the shoulder of a man around his age, "is MacKenzie, my partner in the field for about six years now." The man waved. "And this is a buddy of mine from Quantico, Major Luis Cordova."

"Hi," he said.

"We were gonna' head over and talk to Stilinski; you boys wanna' go?" Scott looked at the other werewolves. They exchanged looks before Scott turned back to his father and nodded. "Alright. Well, finish up and get dressed. We should get over there soon." Rafe and Scott exchanged a look before the FBI agent led them out onto the enclosed porch.

"Actually, I should get home," Liam said. "Make sure my mom and dad are alright."

"Do you want a ride?" Melissa asked.

"Nah, I'm ok. I can run."

"I can take you, hun. I have to run some errands and you're on the way."

"And I don't want you by yourself," Scott added.

Liam nodded. "Thanks, Ms. McCall."

"I guess we should get ready," Scott said before standing and whoofing down the last third of his toast. Derek and Liam stood, too, rinsing and putting their dishes in the washer before heading up the stairs. Derek was first, followed by Scott and Liam, the former staring at the Hale boy's butt clad in his borrowed pair of shorts.

"Hey, Scott?" Liam started at the top of the stairs, stopping his alpha.

"Hmm?" He turned to face his beta, only to see his phone out in both hands and a wicked smile across his lips.

"What should I tell Mason?"

/ | * | * | \

Isaac Lahey was walking uphill on a more secluded street of Paris, hood pulled over his head from his old #14 sweater. He was in a predominantly Muslim neighborhood on a Friday night and there were only the other people near him: the lovebird couple walking and laughing that were coming toward him, and a woman behind him—the one that had been following him for 20 minutes. He had been on his way to a club to meet a few friends; he was gonna' be late to begin with.

When the couple passed and finally entered a townhouse near the far end of the street, Isaac darted into a dark nearby front garden through a creaky gate. He got onto the grass on his stomach and waited. He heard running feet. A back hitting the stone wall. A silencer being screwed onto a pistol. The woman flipped around the corner, gun and lit-flashlight pointed forward. She checked ahead of her and then her corners. But, before she got a chance to check the ground, Isaac growled and pounced. His eyes shined bright yellow and he bore his claws and fangs down on her as he flattened her against the stone and concrete. The gun slipped from her hand and made it into his own in a split second. She threw a punch, she struggled, but one butt with the pistol-handle to her forehead and she was rendered unconscious.

Isaac caught his breath for a moment, listening. Her heart was beating and she was breathing. He clambered to his feet and stepped back, gun in hand. Only gripping the silencer, he unscrewed it, careful to make sure his hand gripped the muzzle so the forensics would implicate only his attacker. Chris hadn't just trained him physically, but mentally as well.

Quietly and carefully he crept out onto the street, checking for any other hunters before dumping the silencer into a drain. He walked back to the woman and, after wiping the gun and taking hold with his sleeve, placed the gun a foot or so from her feet. He closed his eyes, breathed again, and psyched himself out. He put on a facade, rushing up the steps of the townhouse and forcing desperation and panic and fast breathing to come forward. He knocked on the door, or rather pounded. He kept knocking until he saw the lights come on. The door opened and a 40-year-old Arab man looked down at Isaac as he leaned over.

" _S'il vous plaît...aide..._ _j'ai été attaqué._ "


	8. Blink of an Eye, Part 2

**| Blink of an Eye, Part 2 |**

Scott parked his dirt bike next to his dad's SUV. Derek unwrapped his hands from around the alpha's waist and dismounted first, reaching down and adjusting himself. Scott popped a smile at him after took off his helmet, winking at him before turning to lead them on. By the time the boys walked in, Scott's dad had already finished the introductions between his team and Noah Stilinski.

"Did Scott drive safe, Miguel?" Rafe asked as Scott and Parrish silently greeted each other, the latter the only deputy in the building. Derek nodded and the sheriff ushered the men and boys to an interview, Stiles' dad making a questioning face at Scott. In turn, the alpha made a face as well and followed everyone back, finding Stiles leaning against the wall and Argent seated at the table.

"This s my son, Stiles," the sheriff said, "and this is our key witness, Christopher Argent." Having already stood, Argent was the first to reach out and shake the others' hands, quickly doing away with the pleasantries. The men took their seats, Argent at the head, Noah to his left by the door, then Rafe, Brad, Luis at the other head, and MacKenzie to his left. Stiles remained against the wall behind Argent and Scott and Derek took respective leaning positions behind the sheriff and Scott's dad. The alpha looked over at his best friend, catching him staring at Derek with dismay, the emotion untampered and looming in the air. Stiles realized Scott had caught him and quickly looked at one of the seated men.

"May I?" Brad began

Rafe nodded, but MacKenzie interjected. "Actually, I have to ask: it's not SOP for even Luis or Brad to be here, let alone three teenagers, so, does somebody want to fill me in?"

The two parents exchanged a look before Argent said to Rafe, "Can they be trusted?"

"I wouldn't have asked them to come if I didn't they could," Agent McCall answered matter-of-factly.

"Tell them." Argent said before looking to Scott and Derek. "Show them."

Rafe looked to his partner, MacKenzie looking both confused and expectantly. "This, um, this is…this is going to sound…unbelievable. But, I can prove what I'm about to tell you."

"Out with it, Rafe," Brad said, an eyebrow raised.

"Scott and…Miguel," he continued, Stiles unable to help the wide grin that spread across his lips, "aren't exactly human. They're, um…"

"We're werewolves," Scott aided, allowing his father's expression to relax. MacKenzie, in turn, couldn't help his outburst of brief laughter.

"The people I had you look into," Rafe pushed on, "the Argent family, is hunting my son. And others."

"Rafe—" MacKenzie tried.

"Mack," Brad hushed, looking at Scott and Derek expectantly. "You can prove this?"

The pair's eyes lit up almost simultaneously, causing MacKenzie to shoot up from his chair, the metal legs rubbing hard against the concrete floor.

"You're an alpha," Luis said and all eyes moved to him. "So young."

"Luis?" Rafe started when the major's eyes glowed yellow, Rafe's eyes widening a little.

"Mack, sit," Brad ordered. When the younger agent took his seat slowly, his eyes trapped on the man's face sitting next to him, the most senior of them turned back to his former mentee. "This is a lot, Rafe," he said, sitting forward to brace himself on his forearms. "Quite a lot. Sheriff, got any coffee that isn't shit?"

The sheriff nodded and stood. Stiles followed him out to help when MacKenzie turned to his partner. "Jesus, Rafe," he exclaimed.

"He's my son," Rafe said, twisting to look back at Scott. "And his friends…they're just kids."

"But in order to get those eyes," Luis began, "they both had to kill another. An alpha steals another's power through death and the blue reflects the taking of an innocent life." Brad and Luis looked at Scott to answer, while MacKenzie leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Argent, however, interceded. "Scott is what they call a _true_ alpha," he said as the Stilinski's returned to the room. Luis' mouth fell agape, looking wondrously up at the young alpha. "He earned those eyes and his power without having to kill anybody, rather through the virtue of his character."

A silence fell on the room for a moment, Brad looking curiously at the duo. He spoke first, again. "And Miguel?"

"Is actually Derek Hale," Stiles answered.

"As in…the Hale Family Arson?" Brad questioned. With a nod from the sheriff, he looked back at Derek. "That case crossed my desk years ago, but one of my superiors buried it. You should be much older."

"It's a long story," Scott offered.

"Your eyes, though?" Luis said, looking suspiciously at the young Hale boy.

"Yes, Derek killed a girl," Stiles continued. "His girlfriend Paige, when they were in high school. She was already dying, though. She was terminal. He did it to stop her pain." Stiles looked at Derek. "She died in his arms. He saved her, in a way." Derek looked right back at him, his expression soft, almost thanking him.

"This is all very complicated," Brad admitted, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Your last name is Argent," he continued, turning to the man at the far end of the table, "and your family is trying to kill a bunch of teen wolves. Please, help me put this puzzle together, starting with why you _aren't_ trying to kill them."

"They're not just trying to kill them," Luis said. "The Argents are hunting them."

/ | * | * | \

The sun looked to be on its way toward sunset. It was almost 5 PM and in the back of Eichen House, ten commandos were preparing to breach the wall with line-explosives. Gerard was amongst them, carrying a hefty black duffle bag. Abruptly, there was an explosion near the gate and the hunters took their cue to breach. Inside, the building has blacked out, running only on auxiliary power. They made their way inside, going through the hall towards the staircase. The point men beanbagged any orderlies who tried to stop them. One-by-one they filed down to the supernatural floor. There, they made their way deeper into the unit, blowing a few doors along their way with minor charges.

When they arrived at their destination, Gerard popped a sinister smile. "Peter Hale," he announced when the werewolf came into view.

"Hello, Gerard," the former alpha greeted, yet to get up from his bed, sitting against the side wall with a book in hand. The patriarch dropped his bag noisily to the ground. "I see you're looking better. Your skin, it looks healthier."

"Thank you."

"And you came to see me with your newfound health. You didn't bring anymore kanimas with you, I hope?" Gerard simply smirked. "Damn. You see, not all the inmates like to share the ball in the yard and I could use some real unkillable muscle backing me up."

"Chatty as always."

Peter stood and shrugged, walking up to the glass. "That's why they keep me around I suppose."

"That time has come."

"You're not still pissed about Kate are you? I always told Derek she was trouble and it rubs off."

"You tried to murder my daughter and turned her into that monstrosity instead," Gerard said angrily, his expression mirroring that emotion.

"Not my finest moment. This town…unfortunately, some people just don't stay dead." The patriarch shifted. "Hey, she's the one who murdered my sister _and_ my family. And burned me alive. All outside of your little code, which I see, yet again, has been suspended. As far as I'm concerned, your daughter deserved it and my only regret is not ripping out her whole throat." One of Gerard's men banged on the glass. Peter never broke his gaze with the old man, though. He watched him, feeling his rage through the protective glass. "That's it, Gerard. Get angry. Let's do this, once and for all. You and me!" He said this, all the while physically psyching himself out.

But Gerard just smirked at him. His signals of anger disappeared in a split second. "As poetic as that sound, Peter, I think I'll savor that for when I finally cut your daughter in half." It was Peter's turn to be pissed, his eyes glowing and claws and fangs emerging. It was his turn to smack at the glass, his murderous glare piercing into Gerard's eyes. Behind them, two beanbags were fired and two orderlies fell to the ground. "As you can see, we're a little pressed for time." Gerard crouched down and unzipped the duffle. "I don't think we signed in."

"C'mon, Gerard. It's been a long time coming, you and I."

"I suppose it has," he replied whilst one end wide. At the same time two men stepped forward and placed two small squares on the glass. "But alas," Gerard said, lifting a large gun with a drum underneath, resembling a KAC Stoner LMG, "you're out of time." The squares detonated a powerful vibration into the bulletproof glass as Peter took a step back and Gerard pulled the trigger.

He kept on firing, the glass shatter from the first bullet, the light machine gun loud and ricocheting throughout the halls. He fired until the metal became hot and couldn't fire anymore, it ammo drum depleted. When the noise stopped and the smoke from the debris of the wall cleared, Gerard peered in. Peter was slumped against the wall full of holes, he himself the same and bloody. His eyes were open and he looked dead. Gerard dropped the LMG and retrieved the same Desert Eagle as before from his own jacket.

"Check him," Gerard commanded. But as one of the hunters took a single step forward, Peter's finger twitched and Gerard just reacted. The headshot was messy. Peter was no longer recognizable from his neck up. One of the men shoved the heavy firearm into the duffle and they made their leave. As they went, however, the dumped canister after canister from their belts, each slightly large smoke grenade filled with particles of wolfsbane, mountain ash, and mistletoe.

/ | * | * | \

Scott and Derek walked off the elevator on the last floor of the latter's building. The Hale boy went to open the door to his loft when the alpha stopped him. "Derek, I don't…I don't know how long this age thing is gonna' last, but my friends—my pack—they're yours, too. If you want them. Us."

Derek beamed. He grabbed the front of Scott's shirt and pulled him forward. "You," he said before closing that last distance, pushing into a heated kiss, Scott's arm snaking around his waist. He pulled back and grinned. "I'm glad you said 'yes.'"

"Actually, I said 'I think I like him and I know he likes me so we'll figure it out,'" Scott corrected.

Derek only grinned wider. "So very glad," he said before pecking the alpha's lips and turning away. He opened the door and inside were Stiles, Lydia, Malia, Liam, Hayden, Corey, Mason, and Parrish.

"Sorry," Scott offered, "had to stop for has."

"And tongue," Liam blurted, earning him a hard smack to his chest from his girlfriend.

"It still feels like we're missing someone," Malia said, insinuating Kira's absence.

In turn, though, there were footsteps from atop the spiral staircase. "In this case, technically you are," came the amused voice of Deucalion. Scott was the only one that smiled at his presence, the rest, at a minimum, caught off guard. "Scott," the alpha greeted with an easier smile, stepping forward to shake the true alpha's hand. The 'demon wolf' looked over the pack, exchanging a brief look with Hayden before spotting Derek. "My, my. Derek Hale."

"I remember you," Derek said, cautious though. "You were at the gathering, with my mother and Ennis and that she-alpha."

"Kali."

"You were the reasonable one. But, there's something else, too. I can't quite place it."

"Fascinating," Deucalion remarked.

"Scott spoke to Peter yesterday," Stiles began. "What do you know about the 'smoking mirror?'"

"You're referring to the temple of the god of the nagual?" Stiles nodded. "Not much, I'm afraid. I know that the mirror is a piece of obsidian, but the one story I do know indicates that it's a center of great power."

"Like the nemeton," Stiles though aloud.

"But instead of a source, it's a hole," Deucalion mused, eliciting ponderous looks from the two humans.

"Well that still gets us nowhere," Liam offered.

Scott patted his beta's arm before returning to Deucalion. "What can you tell us about Helena Argent?"

"I'm starting to feel like Deaton," the alpha stated, eliciting a face from Scott. "I've never had the displeasure. Kali did tell me a story once, of how her alpha barely escaped a massacre orchestrated by the matriarch. She's a ruthless woman, more so than Gerard. She's been at war for a decade, fighting our kind. And others. She's the reason the hunters need a code." The pack stirred, Corey lacing his fingers with Mason's. "When is she supposed to arrive? Or is she—" The sliding door slammed open, revealing the devil herself, numerous hunters behind her. "Already here," Deucalion finished. He and Scott stepped forward. But behind them, roping down from the roof, six men crashed through the window, couching the pack between a lot of firepower.

"Scott McCall, Derek Hale, and Deucalion all in one room," Helena started, smiling sadistically at them. "What could a true alpha and the self-proclaimed 'Demon Wolf' have in common to form such an alliance?"

"Enemy of my enemy…" Scott offered.

"Surely there's more to it than that, Scott," Deucalion said, feigning offense. Scott peeked at him and smirked.

"Why're you doing this?" Scott said.

"Alexander. Katherine. Victoria. Allison," Helena answered.

"You didn't even know her!" Scott cried. Stiles took a step forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your son told me all about you. How you left when Allison was only nine. How that was the last time you saw her alive. You didn't see her grow. You didn't see who she became. How she fought with us. Protected her friends. You don't get to claim her; she never would've joined you." Helena actually frowned.

" _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger leurs-même_ ," Lydia continued, also stepping forward.

"It's your world that killed her," Helena challenged.

"It's your _daughter_ that killed her!" Scott yelled. The line was clear to him. Clearer than anything else. If Kate hadn't murdered Talia Hale, Laura would never have become an alpha, and Peter wouldn't have killed the Argent daughter because he wouldn't have had a cause for revenge. And if he were never an alpha he wouldn't have bit Scott and he never would have been dragged into danger in the first place. No danger, no surrogate sacrifice, no dark kitsune, no death. He may not have even met Allison beyond class. He never would have heard her comment about forgetting a pen, so he wouldn't have caught her attention the first day. He wouldn't have made first line. Nothing.

At least, he tried to believe in that thread.

"So, just like Gerard, you throw the code out when it suits you," Deucalion said, patting Scott's back before stepping even closer. Two of the men clacked their guns and took aim.

"You have no grounds to lecture me on ethics," Helena retorted, still not breaking her glare with Scott.

"In point of fact, I like to think of it as doing you a favor," the alpha quipped with a smirk. "There's three packs you no longer have to deal with."

Helena broke her stare to look at the older man. She smirked, leaning a little towards the man on her left. "Shoot him first."

"Wait," Scott said, stepping forward next to Deucalion. "Let Stiles and Mason go. They're human. Please."

"They've both had their share of flirting with the supernatural," she responded.

"Wait, you're gonna' kill us in cold blood because we got possessed?" Stiles exclaimed, any fear he had converting to anger. "You know possession isn't voluntary, right?"

"I really don't think they care, Stiles," Malia said, her eyes glowing and her sharper features appearing; the imminent sense of danger had spiked.

"Kill them," Helena ordered. The first word barely left her mouth before each of the shifters prepared to attack; Jordan had even started catching his fists on fire and Lydia was prepared to scream. The hunters had only just lifted their guns and barely touched their fingers to the triggers when they hear a ding from something resembling a triangle. The shots never came and another half a second passed when four oni manifested, one between the pack and the window group, two between them and the door set, and one behind the latter and the door itself.

"Run!" yelled an unfamiliar voice. The pack made for the door. Deucalion was the first one out and seemingly followed a ninja down the long winding stairs. As the last person crossed the threshold—Parrish as it were—gunfire erupted, followed by yellowing and cries of pain and metal clashing against metal. They made it all the way down to the ground floor without incident, the sounds of fighting following them before Helena' voice could be heard, rallying her people to go after them.

The pack was too fast for them though, filing out of the lobby door and making for the garage. The parked SUVs came into sight and one man—a driver and seemingly the only hunter left behind—got out. He made to draw his sidearm when the ninja through a shuriken into his neck. "Follow me," he said, mounting his Kawasaki parked next to Scott's bike. The pack dispersed to get into—or on—their respective vehicles. The gunfire emerged in the lobby, but they paid it no mind in their hurry. They took off with haste, abandoning some cars in favor of carpooling just to get out of there. While a couple shots popped at them as they sped off, they were out of range in such a brief time, following the strange ninja that had just saved their lives.


	9. Tricking the Tricksters

**| Tricking the Tricksters |**

"Inside, hurry," the ninja said, holding the emergency door of the sheriff's station open. Scott and his friends scurried in, filing into the main room of the building. There were only two deputies at their desks—Clark and Strauss—and the sheriff was in his office.

"Everyone okay?" Noah began, Stiles giving his father a hug; Scott nodded in turn.

Mason looked at their dark-clad savior. "Who are you?" he said in awe, wonder, and excitement.

"My name is Osada Eiji," the man said, unveiling his face.

"You're a kitsune," Derek said, intrigued.

"Jikai, yes," the ninja confirmed.

"Uhh…" Mason sounded.

"I am time kitsune."

"That's how you froze the hunters, right?" Liam asked. The man nodded.

"How did you know?" Scott asked.

"You are known to many, Scott McCall. But in this instance, I was sent."

Before anyone could ask, Satomi Ito walked out from the conference room, followed by Brett Talbot. "You?" Scott said, dually delighted and surprised at seeing the other alpha.

"Hey, Scott," Brett said after Satomi smiled at the true alpha. "Liam, Mason. Hayden." There was an animus to the way he greeted her, both in tone and gaze. A fleeting whiff of… _jealousy_? Scott clasped hands with Brett and Satomi was clearly radiant, motherly, looking over her now safe set of allies.

"When you called and told me Helena Argent was in town," Satomi began, "I feared the worst. But everyone's," she continued, glancing around at the pack before spotting a nervous Derek, "…okay. Derek?"

"Hello, Satomi-sama," Derek said with a nervous grin.

"How…?" she said, turning to Scott.

"It's a long story," Scott answered, turning to give the Hale boy a reassuring smile.

"You've come a long way, Deucalion," Satomi said, smile lessening but not quite dissipating. "Running solo, helping teenagers."

Deucalion simply smirked. "I'm a reformed man. And who's to say I'm 'running solo?'"

"Quite," she replied. "You should know something, too."

"About Eichen House," Brett furthered, his tone more apologetic than anything.

"What happened?" Malia said, stepping forward.

"There was a break-in," Satomi answered. "The supernatural ward…it was a massacre. Poison gas."

Scott's brow furrowed, his head shaking in disbelief. "Did anyone survive?" Derek tried, his voice alarmed and hurried. "Is my uncle, is Peter…?"

The alpha exchanged a look with the kitsune. "Only two survived, I'm afraid," Satomi offered. "But your uncle, your father," she said, looking at Malia, "it seems he was targeted."

"And we're already next," Stiles admitted aloud.

"That's why we're here," Brett said. "We wanna' help."

"There is something else," Eiji said. "The Argents are not just seeking revenge. They are purging this world. Cleansing it. And to do so, they must strike at its center."

"Its center?" Scott said.

"The nemeton," Lydia muttered.

Eiji nodded. "They are planning on taking away its power. And to do so, they have to kill its anchors."

Scott and Stiles immediately looked at each other, each remembering that night before the lunar eclipse. And then remembering Allison.

"Anchors?" Jordan said. "Scott and Stiles…are they still tied to it?"

Eiji nodded again. "It is not active the way it once was."

Scott recalled Deaton's words. _"You have to find a way to close that door."_

"It manifests only subliminally now," the man continued.

"Like a darkness around our hearts," Stiles furthered.

"So we're the primary targets," Scott stated. "That's nothing new," he said, emphasizing with a hesitant grin to his best friend.

"There's more, though," Satomi said. "The Argents aren't travelling alone. The Soothsayer is with them."

"The who?" the sheriff said in his usual perplexed tone.

Before anyone can answer, they hear a bunch of car doors slam and a series of firearms being clacked. Derek looked around the room. "Where's Mr. Argent?"

/ | * | * | \

Chris Argent crept quietly through the Beacon Hills reserve. His Desert Eagle was drawn, infrared goggles on. "Where are you, Lyall?" While he couldn't seem to find the nemeton, he didn't stop. His venture deep in the woods had to be successful; Lyall Payne was too dangerous to be allowed to live. After a while, though, he heard it: an ultrasonic emitter tuned to a human frequency. He approached cautiously, expecting the trap. As he neared, he saw it sticking in the ground. Suddenly he heard a snap to his left and swung to fire, only for him to drop from the taser that had been fired into his back.

/ | * | * | \

Everyone bustled about. The sheriff and three deputies scrambled around the building with their guns drawn. Corey activated his invisibility and snuck up to the windows, calling out numbers. Hayden hurried to the door and locked it.

"Stiles, Mason, downstairs," the sheriff ordered.

"Can I at least get a gun?" Stiles tried.

"Now!"

"Go with them," Scott said to Derek, opening his phone and dialing his dad. However, the call just hung.

"They're using jammers," Noah Stilinski said, holding up a wired walkie, indicating that it, too, was inoperable.

"I could sneak out," Corey offered. "Call someone. Scott's dad?"

"They're too good," Scott said, shaking his head. "They'll kill you."

"They'll kill us all if we don't do anything," Malia said.

"So what do we do?" Hayden asked, looking to Scott.

"You don't do anything," Valerie Clark said. She turned to the sheriff. "They all should be downstairs. They're kids."

The sheriff took one look at Scott before looking back at Hayden's sister. "They can handle themselves. Trust me." She went to protest when he pulled her into his office.

In the back by the emergency entrance, Strauss was covering the door, stance and shotgun at the ready; Satomi, Eiji, Brett, and Liam moved to cover it as well. The two betas were sharing awkward glances every few seconds; Liam was blushing.

Malia and Deucalion went into the office Agent McCall had formerly used, covering the window.

Hayden rejoined her sister, the two sharing a glance. They got into position to cover the office window.

In turn, the sheriff joined Scott by the front. They exchanged a look, waiting for Lydia to predict who was to die first.

Lydia and Jordan were in the front corner, the banshee trying to talk him down from a seeming panic attack. Deep down, it was something more. His eyes were ablaze, claws and fangs revealed. "I can feel it," Parrish breathed, slamming his head back, fiery eyes opening. "It's calling me."

"What is?" Lydia said.

"It's in danger. He'll get them, Lydia," he said almost trance-like, grabbing her wrist painfully tight.

But then there was a voice and Jordan let her go, looking away from her and towards the source of the sound. Gerard. "It doesn't have to be this way, Scott!" the patriarch yelled, standing a good distance from the front of the building. "If you and Stiles come out alone, we'll spare the rest of your pack. And your families!" The 'for now' was deafening.

Stiles, having heard the ordeal from the top of the stairs, emerged. Scott and the sheriff looked at him. "No, absolutely not," Stilinski said. "You're not going out there. Neither of you are, you hear me?"

"But, dad, they're raze this building to the ground with everyone in it if we don't." Stiles looked at his best friend for support, and despite the alpha's look of fear and sadness, he nodded.

"Come on, Scott!" Gerard yelled. "You've got 30 seconds! Time to choose!"

"Scott, you can't," Derek said, having emerged as well. He looked heartbroken. The sheriff stepped in front of the door, physically trying to bar them. "Scott, please…"

They heard another gun pump. Scott turned to Derek. "If we don't make it out of this, you look after my mom."

"Scott!?" Gerard called.

Stilinski suddenly lurched forward and handcuffed Stiles' wrist to his own. "If you're going, so am I." They shared a tense look, but it broke when it all seemed unnecessary. Sirens erupted from down the road, close enough to be ready to turn into the department's parking lot. At first, they thought it was just the other deputies on patrol that evening, but 20 cars and a few federal SUVs later spoke otherwise. They formed a surrounding perimeter around the building and the hunters. Deputies. State police. FBI. They all got out defensively, guns at the ready.

Scott and Stiles exchanged the happiest of grins when they heard a familiar voice. "Gerard and Helena Argent," Rafael McCall said, amplified by a megaphone, "order your men to put down their weapons. This is the FBI. We have a warrant for your arrest." There was no movement at first, the hunters' guns still pointed outward. "You're surrounded. Comply and disarm."

Another few seconds passed and Rafe was about to speak again when Helena broke her silence. "Guns down! Everyone, guns down!" she yelled. Sounds followed of safeties being flipped and metal touching concrete before being kicked away. The deputies and officers started to approach the hired guns who'd dropped to their knees and laced their fingers behind their heads; they knew the drill.

Rafe and Mack, in turn, approached the elder Argent couple. They bound their hands, Rafe on Gerard and Mack on Helena. "Gerard and Helena Argent," Rafe began, "by order of a Federal judge, I'm placing you and your men in FBI custody on charges of engaging in organized criminal activity, numerous counts of attempting to harm law enforcement, attempting to destroy government property, and 2 counts of attempted murder of an immediate family member of a federal law enforcement official. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be…"

Scott watched his dad in awe. The station had emptied, the two human deputies leaving to help as the sheriff—now unbound from his son—and the pack and allies all looked on. After Rafe finished mirandizing the Argent heads and placing them into the backs of separate state cruisers, he turned to see Scott beaming at him. Rafe returned his smile and looked to see Stilinski with his own eyes on him. They shared a nod.

Malia kissed Stiles before grinning at him. Mason and Corey shared an embrace. Liam awkwardly kissed Hayden's cheek, Brett a few feet off to the side of the boy. Derek walked up next to Scott and linked their hands, smiling at him.

"Wait," Lydia said, looking around their group and then out at the cars. "Where's Jordan?"

Suddenly, Scott's phone buzzed. It was a text from Argent.

/ To Mr. McCall and Stilinski. Come alone if you want him to live. /


	10. Time Will Tell

**| Time Will Tell |**

Some of the SUVs and state cruisers began to pull away. By the perimeter of cars, Sheriff Stilinski was speaking with Rafe, Mack, and Luis. And the pack, they were bidding farewell to their allies. Deucalion shook hands with Deaton, while Derek walked up to Satomi. "You've been given a second life, Derek," the female alpha said with a smile. "I'm happy for you. Your mother…she was a kind woman. One I'm proud to have known, to have called my friend. With Scott McCall, you're in good hands, but if you ever need anything, you always have a place in my home."

"Thank you, Satomi-sama," Derek said, bowing.

"Come," she said, beckoning him in for a hug.

Off to the side, Brett pulled back from actually giving Liam a hug. As he did, he whispered in the shorter boy's ear, "Think about it," before kissing the side of his temple. With hesitation or a second glance, the Buddhist beta walked away towards his car, Satomi and Deaton sharing in a respectful bow before she followed. Hayden glared at Brett before turning her angry stare to her boyfriend.

"Hayden, you ready to go?" Valerie said, coming up to her sister. Hayden turned away from Liam and nodded. It was then that Mason put his hand comfortingly on Liam's shoulder and, with the other, put his thumb up and grinned as stupidly as he could.

/ | * | * | \

Two motorcycles parked at the entrance of the reserve, the more dirt-bike carrying two passengers. Scott and Stiles tore off their helmets and dismounted from it, their gaze quickly shifting to Eiji, looking for some semblance of direction. "Are you sure you should've come?" Stiles said to the kitsune.

"Your pack is not here," the fox pointed out. "Would you prefer to fight him alone?"

"Deaton said he has visions," Stile continued. "Premonitions? Won't he see you coming?"

Scott thought back to the moment after their saving…

 _Scott turned off the screen on his phone, dread overcoming him. Derek and Malia looked at him, sensing the shift inside him. Liam followed right after. Before he could explain anything, a sleek black sedan pulled up; out of the driver's side stepped Dr. Alan Deaton._

" _You always arrive right when things are about to get worse," Malia said as the veterinarian walked up._

"' _A wizard is never late,'" Stiles said. When no one laughed, he grumbled, "Unbelievable…"_

" _Did you find anything?" Liam said._

" _I know what happened with Derek," Deaton said. "Right now, you have a more pressing matter. The Argents didn't come alone."_

" _You're talking about this 'Soothsayer?'" Lydia said._

" _I am."_

" _Who is he?" Stiles said. "What is he?"_

" _His name is Lyall Payne. In Celtic society, three positions served as leadership roles. Druids weren't just knowledgable about the supernatural, they were also religious and legal authorities. They were healers and political advisors. Historians even. Then, there were bards. They were story-tellers and singers and musicians. They were masters of the oral tradition. But the third, they were few in number, yet the most revered. In Latin, they are called_ vates _."_

" _Prophets," Lydia offered._

" _Quite. The Romans thought of them as any other oracle—a mystic that may or may not know what they're talking about. A man designed to tell kings or emperors what they want to hear. But the vates, they actually can see into the future. Born of a druid mother and an alpha father, conceived on a full moon after the alpha bites his mate, that child can begin to see visions when they come in contact with the supernatural, be they creatures, or places."_

" _Like the nemeton," Stiles said._

" _A few decades ago, the supernatural took power in Russia and the Middle East, controlling much of what historically would be the Silk Road trade route. As a gift, the old Order of Druids gifted a vates to the Argent family in service of bringing balance to the world. This is the war that Helena Argent went off to fight. Which is here. Now."_

" _Satomi told us about what he plans to do with the nemeton," Scott said. "What he wants with us." He handed him his phone, the text available to read. "Given how much chaos its brought, I'm not so sure it's a bad thing. To destroy it."_

" _But you'd die," Derek said._

" _Scott," Satomi said. "Our world is just like the other: there's both good and bad. With or without the nemeton. Don't be so ready to give your life away when all these people need you."_

" _I just…" Scott started, but stopped himself…_

"His powers do not work quite like that," Eiji said. "The short answer: he won't. He can't."

"Because of your affinity?" Stiles said; the ninja nodded in return. "Scott?"

"Can you defeat him?" the alpha asked. "I guess, really, what're we walking into?"

A howl ricocheted through the forest. A scream. Jordan.

"Throw him off guard," Eiji said, "and I will do the rest." Scott nodded. "I will only be able to do this once."

"The nemeton, it's hidden," Stiles said. "Use your fox eyes, though; that's how Liam and Mason found it." Eiji nodded and took off atop the trees. Scott and Stiles began to run, deeper and deeper towards the source of the howl. All too soon, though, Scott heard it. An ultrasonic emitter.

"Careful," Scott said to his best friend, tapping his ear. He looked around, scanning with red eyes for the enormous tree stump. Scott and Stiles creeped closer and closer towards the emitter, even to the point where Stiles could hear it faintly. The alpha eventually spotted the flashing bulb in the ground, and beyond that, maybe 50 yards ahead, the beacon that gave the town its name. There, slumped against it, was Chris Argent. Unconscious. And Jordan, only feet from him, impaled on a pike sticking in the ground. They tried to detour the emitter to the left but suddenly heard a _snap_.

They turned and Stiles was clubbed on his forehead. He went down. Scott turned to attack. Lyall was ready, silver knife in one hand and claw-tipped brass knuckles in the other, a yellow goo oozing off the edges. He shouldn't have been able to match Scott's speed or strength for a human, and definitely not anticipate each of Scott's movements. _The visions—of course!_ Scott was forced on the defense, almost as if the man had seen this fight a hundred time and was simply following predetermined choreography. Scott tried to mix his movements, be random, but nothing seemed to work.

Stiles got back to his feet, but before Scott could do anything, especially after being kicked hard in a tree, the vates threw his knife. Perfectly. Scott watched in horror as it embedded itself into Stiles' chest, right on the outside next to his heart. "Stiles!" Scott cried, his rage kicking in as his best friend collapsed backwards. His face turned into that of a killer, having only once morphed into that face before. He lunged, but again the man was ready. An arm blade extended, hidden under his cloak sleeve, and drove forward, gouging open the alpha's left side. Yellow wolfsbane. He could feel it. He pulled back to his normal transformed state, just in time, too.

Lyall took a swipe mean to behead him. He heard it coming, though, evading it and taking a swipe of his own. He missed, but it seemed as if Lyall only got lucky. So Scott engaged. Hard. And then Lyall was one the defense, barely keeping up. Scott was determined. An uppercut to the man's jaw and the vates was on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Scott waited, not a killer himself. But he was ready, so when Lyall finally got to his feet, slightly disoriented, the alpha readied to lunge again.

However, that action never became necessary. Two oni manifested suddenly and, whilst being caught off hiard on top of being without his silver dagger, impaled him twofold. One through the hear, the other through the neck. Eiji dropped down from the tree above and his shadowy minions disappeared, allowing Lyall's suspended body to collapse.

"Go," the kitsune said, "check on your friend. Bring him to the hospital. I will see to the others." Scott hesitated, looking at Jordan and then a rousing Chris Argent. He nodded to the man, thanking him with a slight smile before running over and crouching next to Stiles.

"I feel like I got hit with a load of bricks," the human said. Of course Stiles was chatty. His forehead was bloody, his skin pale.

"I'm gonna' get you outta' here," Scott said.

"Scott," the ninja said. "Take mine."

The alpha nodded, catching the keys thrown his direction. He lifted Stiles bridal style. "Mmm, I could get used to this," Stiles teased, eliciting a laugh from the werewolf. He sped walk, moving as fast as he could go.

"Stay with me," Scott said when Stiles' voice dropped to a mumble. "Almost there." Stiles tried, but he was fading. Scott got him onto the Kawasaki in front of him and took off. As he got down the road, he could feel the blood oozing onto his arm, hos own side just now starting to hurt. He balanced out, digging out his phone. He called 911, having an ambulance meet him. He knew he wouldn't make it. He pushed through, not stopping. He would bite him if he had to, even without the guarantee. Yes, he was weak, and Stiles might hate him after. They've never verbally talked about it, knowing only that he turned down the bite once before.

The road was long. Curvy. He went on and on. Finally, he heard it. The siren. He saw the flashing lights. White and red. He was thankful the road was straight at the moment. He flashed the headlights and pulled over. They met him halfway. The paramedics took Stiles carefully, doing all they could for him in the prep back to Beacon Memorial. IV. Gauze pads. Heart monitor. Watching them steady the knife in Stiles' chest was the last thing Scott remembered before he passed out.

/ | * | * | \

Scott came to just as Deaton finished patching up his side. "I don't know what we'd do without you," he said.

"I don't either," Alan said with a smile.

"Stiles?"

"Will be just fine," Melissa said, peering over the druid's shoulder.

"It's over," Deaton said.

"Maybe. I'm still not sure about the nemeton."

"I know," Deaton replied. He placed his hand comfortingly on Scott's shoulder before taking his leave.

"Don't let me ever hear you talking about ending your life," Melissa said, pointing her finger in his face.

"I wasn't—"

"Bah—bah…never. You understand me?" Scott nodded, looking at her seriously. "You wanna' see him before they take him into surgery?" The alpha smiled and she helped him up. His mother led him down the hall to Stiles' room. The sheriff was asleep outside. Inside, Malia was asleep on Stiles' leg. Scott walked in carefully, Stiles appearing to be out of it. He took his best friend's hand into his two and only a little pain drew in. He smiled, knowing the boy was gonna' be alright. Stiles stirred and Scott rested his hand back on the bed.

As Scott made to leave, Stiles muttered, "Mm, Scotty."

"Hey."

"'m tired. Head."

"You're gonna' be just fine."

Stiles barely nodded, his eyes remaining closed. "Thanks. Love you, Scotty."

Scott grinned. "Get some rest, Stiles."

He walked over to the door and almost got his hand only the plastic latch when Stiles spoke again. "Take care of him," he said before finally slipping off." Scott took one look back at the boy before walking out. Jordan and Lydia were sitting further down the hall, outside Argent's room. In front of him, towards the exit, were Liam and Hayden, sitting across from each other. They looked pissed at one another, Hayden even a little upset. Derek, however, was nowhere to be found.

Scott checked the cafeteria, finding only a laughing Mason and Corey, in love over a bag of McDonald's. Just outside the front, off to the side, was his father, talking on the phone. They caught each other's haze and Rafe held up his finger, indicating that they'd talk once he was through. Scott nodded and planned to hang by and wait when he finally saw him. Derek was sitting on the grass before the curb. He walked over and sat next to him.

"How's Stiles?" the beta asked, still looking out at the cars.

"The doctors think he'll be just fine. They're about to roll him into surgery, though."

"And you? Are you okay?" he said, turning to him.

"The vet thinks I'm gonna' be just fine," Scott replied with a grin.

Derek couldn't help but laugh a little. "When they told me you blacked out, I freaked out a little. I'm glad you're okay." He provided a genuine smile, devoid of worry, absent of pain.

"Me, too." Scott bumped his side into Derek's, earning a grin from the other. "I'm sorry about what I said—"

"It's not important." Scott nodded and they both turned back to looking out at the cars. "Master Eiji offered—"

"Master?" Scott teased, earning a playful frown from the other.

"Master Eiji offered to help turn me back. You know, to my real age or self or whatever." Scott's expression blankened, his heartbeat picking up speed. "I turned him down." The alpha's stomach flipped in sublime joy. "With everyone gone, err, mostly, I figure why go back? My memories of… _that_ …they just aren't even remotely returning. At this point I don't think I want them to, either."

"You want a fresh start," Scott stated.

Derek nodded. "Hopefully…with you."

Scott turned to look at the boy looking at him and leaned over fast. It was Scott's first-initiated kiss between them and there was no regret, no hesitation, no embarrassment. Well, save for when he pulled back in a start and looked back towards the emergency entrance of the hospital. He saw his dad, phone to his ear still, mouth slightly agape, though. They only got a second to exchange looks when Derek pulled him back into another, even fierier kiss. And this time Scott didn't let go, simply went with all that he wanted and all that Derek gave him.


End file.
